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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383758">Silver-Forked Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel'>anastiel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Americana, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaker Castiel (Supernatural), Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Injured Dean Winchester, M/M, Post-Season/Series 15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:01:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way home from Tennessee, they run into a thunderstorm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tennessee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On the way home from Tennessee, they run into a thunderstorm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sees it up ahead, glowering in the distance, sky orange in the horizon meeting dark grey-blue billows like there’s a nearby fire. They left Townsend two hours ago after a pretty nasty hunt. As hunts go they came out relatively unscathed, but it came close; too close for Cas’ comfort. Dean still has bloodstains splattered over his henley, and a seeping wound arched over his ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes after Cas spots the clouds, the rain starts; pattering onto the roof in heavy metallic pings, while Zeppelin croons in the background. Spray flies up from the oil-slick road in mist clouds, creating a haze of tail lights ahead of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we stop?” Cas asks. He turns to look at Dean, notes the tension wrinkled over his face in the eerie light. He has both hands on the wheel but it’s clear he’s in pain. Cas sees the twitch of his mouth when he adjusts wrong, the scrunch of his eyebrows when they go over a bump in the highway and the car jostles him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Dean answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain pours and sounds like a waterfall atop the roof. Cas can’t hear Zeppelin anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, the road narrows, tunnel slim and Cas is only able to see the taillights from the car in front of them. The sun is dipping low now, horizon turning dark green, soon it will fade to nothingness, and visibility will be next to nothing. Dean’s grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Minutes later the hail starts, pea-sized, a pinging cacophony against metal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Dean mutters, slapping his hand on the steering wheel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Cas says, a warning, out of worry, and steals a glance at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. Next town, we’ll stop until this blows over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An instant rush of relief fills Cas and a small smile works it onto his face. Dean is stubborn, but that only gets him so far, Cas knows he has his limits. The Impala getting potential hail damage is one of them. “Good. We can change your wound dressing. You brought Percocet with us, yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nods, so Cas continues. “Maybe you’ll be able to sleep then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah maybe. I should have let you drive,” Dean mutters, and presses his palm to the wound at his side and cringes. His hand comes away stained red and roughly he wipes it clean on his thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, at the edge of the darkened horizon, a lighting bolt zig-zags from the clouds and pierces the ground. Thunder follows, so fierce it shakes the car in its intensity, and Cas has the urge to cover his ears. He’s suddenly taken back to the holy wars, where his brethren would wield lightning as a weapon. Now, it’s terrifyingly beautiful. If they weren’t out in the middle of nowhere, careening along in a metal contraption at seventy miles per hour, Cas would have the inkling to watch the storm happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it stands, he wants nothing more than to get Dean somewhere safe and inside. They’re not in any true danger, not really, but lingering adrenaline from the hunt, combined with Dean’s laceration has only increased his anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a beacon in the distance bright neon cuts through the rain-haze, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue Swallow Motel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, situated right off the highway next to a roadhouse diner. Nothing else exists in this liminal space, only the darkness of the rolling land and lightning strikes in the distance. Dean notices the sign when Cas does and merges over a lane, steering them towards safety. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dean parks at the front of the motel and the car shutters to a stop, the rumble of the engine quieting to give way to the rumbling in the sky above them. To the left the V of the vacancy sign flickers and then goes out completely. Dean moves to get out of the car, but Cas reaches over, places a hand on his forearm to still him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, you’re bleeding. I’ll go, wait here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grunts in reply, but nods and settles back into the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hail is still falling as Cas steps out of the car, smaller now, in no danger of damaging the Impala’s paint. He pops the collar of his jacket up against the ice, wishing now for his trenchcoat and the thickness of its fabric. Ducking his head against the hail, Cas jogs to the motel office and slips inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a woman at the front desk, flipping through her phone and smacking gum in her mouth. She looks up when Cas walks in, raises an eyebrow, and asks in a deadpan voice, “Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A room, please. Two queens.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, annoyed like this entire interaction is exceedingly boring and leans forward tapping away on her computer. “Name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fred...Johnson.” Cas slips the credit card with said alias on it across the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amanda, as her nametag says, blows a bubble with her gum and pops it. She takes the card delicately between her fingers and asks, “How long ya staying for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just until tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” She says, looking unfazed and digs through her drawer at her desk, grabbing a key card and sliding it through the keypad. “114 is yours.” She hands him both cards and immediately goes back to tapping away on her phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas takes the key card from her, smiles politely, and gives an awkward wave. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Checkout is at ten,” Amanda says, monotone. Across the room, the ice machine settles and there’s a click on of the heater. Cas leaves just as quickly as he came, the key card held tight in his fist and heads back out into the storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean is still where Cas left him. Cas slides back into the passenger seat, dripping all over the leather, right as a loud clap of thunder echoes overheard. Dean curses and jumps in his seat, then winces in pain, pressing his palm to his wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, it’s a mess out there, huh? You get a room?” Dean asks, through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“114, down a few doors. Do you need help getting inside?” Cas asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can walk,” Dean replies, petulant, and Cas fights the urge to roll his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware, do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>help?” He repeats, punctuating the want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s face softens and he shakes his head. “No, I’ll be okay. Just get the bags?” He looks over then and Cas can see the droop of Dean’s eyelids — he’s exhausted and in pain. It’s good they stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.” They trade keys, and Cas steps out of the car and heads to the trunk. He keeps an eye on Dean as he crosses the parking lot to the room. The slight breeze ruffles his hair, and Cas can hear him cursing at the hail pelting him even from across the parking lot. It brings a smile to his face as he lugs their bags out of the trunk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he gets to the room, Cas finds Dean sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the door. He’s shaking off the ice from his hair and taking off his boots, face scrunched up in pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you --” Cas starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it, I’m okay. Just a werewolf scratch, Cas. I ain’t dying,” Dean mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You almost died,” Cas states, and continues on into the room. The hinges on the door squeak as it’s pushed shut and Cas is instantly met with the scent of stale cigarettes and mothballs. He drops the bags at the foot of the other bed. When he turns back around, Dean is looking at him, features contorted in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you... mad at me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Cas answers instantly, because he’s not, it wasn’t Dean’s fault they were outnumbered and only one of them made it out with injuries. They’re both lucky to be alive. “However, I’d appreciate it if you learned how to watch your back better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? And since when did you become a pro?” Dean snarks back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humanity has its perks,” Cas deadpans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean snorts and shakes his head. “I’m gonna change, you wanna help me with this once I'm done?” he asks, gesturing to his wound at his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas gets to work salting the doors and windows while Dean rifles through his duffle, collecting his things and heads into the bathroom. Usually, Dean prefers to seal the entrances, the task habitual after so many years, but Cas doesn’t want him to have to do more than necessary with his injury. They aren’t in danger, not from much anymore, not since they killed God and he took all of the angels and demons with him leaving only monsters for them to deal with. It’s still a comfort though, creating a safety barrier between them and the outside world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another roll of thunder passes through and shakes the room like a minor earthquake. Three lightning strikes follow, illuminating the horizon outside the window, piercing the ground and leaving just as quickly as they appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Cas misses having power like that, the ability to destroy or heal with the touch of his hand. Especially now, when he can’t heal Dean how he wishes he could, not instantly, so he has to be content with taking care of him the natural way — the human way. The positives of humanity and finding a home with Sam and Dean greatly outweigh what he lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the easiest choice he ever had to make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Dean changes, Cas does as well. It is still strange to him to have more than one outfit, but he does enjoy the comfort of pajamas, the concept of having options that never appealed to him before. He settles on one of Dean’s old Zeppelin t-shirts he stole from his room last week while Dean was out on a grocery run and a pair of faded blue sweatpants. He brushes his teeth in the porcelain-chipped sink by the kitchenette, using far more toothpaste than necessary. He likes the minty aftertaste, and Dean says as long as he doesn’t swallow any there’s no harm in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look comfy,” Dean remarks, as he leaves the bathroom, dirty clothes folded up in his arms, heading back over to his bag. He’s shirtless, which makes him entirely more distracting than he has any right to be, and wearing a pair of red plaid pajama pants. He pauses and squints at Cas. “Hey, is that my shirt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I liked it, so I took it. You can have it back if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean just looks at him, confusion written over his features, blinks, and if Cas isn’t mistaken, he sees a faint blush on his cheeks. “Nah, looks better on you anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas isn’t sure what to say to that, so he smiles to himself and puts away his toothbrush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, while you were getting the room I let Sam know we’d be staying here tonight, but we’d be home tomorrow. He said he’s glad we stopped,” Dean says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks up and nods. He finds Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with a loose piece of bandage curving around his ribs. It’s spotted with crimson from the weeping wound. Dean has grabbed a bottle of whiskey from his bag, takes a long drag off the bottle, swallowing the pain meds with it, and sets it on the bed next to him. Cas finds himself momentarily entranced by the gentle bob of Dean’s Adam’s Apple when he swallows. He shakes himself out of it and grabs the first aid kit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad too. We can stay as long as you need since you won’t allow me to drive.” Cas settles next to Dean on the bed, maneuvering his supplies on his lap, opening packages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean bumps his shoulder into Cas’. </span>
  <span>“I don’t even let </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span> drive that often, let alone in a storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, you’re very protective of your car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teasing an injured man while he’s down is </span>
  <em>
    <span>low</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cas,” Dean says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said it was just a scratch?” Cas asks. He meets Dean’s eyes and he’s trapped, their gazes locked, and for a moment Cas swears his heart stops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean breaks first, with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Whatever, we’ll stay until I’m fit to drive home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delicately, Cas begins peeling back the bandage off of Dean’s skin. Dean leans back on his palms and watches him. It’s a deep cut, not as bad as it could have been, even though it was a bitch to sew up. If the werewolf had swiped Dean just a little higher and towards the center of his chest, Dean might not have made it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’ stitches have held through the drive, a neat line stretching half a dozen inches across Dean’s ribs, another new scar. It’s damp, from leaked blood, and Cas gently presses a gauze pad to the wound, carefully soaking up the excess and wiping away what he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whiskey?” Cas asks, and Dean hands him the bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, knowing Dean prefers it that way, Cas pours a little on the wound to clean it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Dean hisses and scrunches his eyes together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Cas says. He wipes away the liquid, drying the wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, Dean sucks in a deep breath and releases it in a rush. “How does it look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. The new bandage should hold until we get home, as long as you don’t move around too much. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> have quite the scar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another to add to the collection,” Dean says, tries to play it like a joke but it falls flat. Cas steals a glance at him and can see him reminiscing how close he came to dying earlier. A new scar is better than no scars at all, it means he survived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sits back and gazes at Dean’s back, while Dean checks Cas’ work before Cas seals the edges of the bandages. There are a half-dozen purpling bruises dotted across his shoulder blades down to the middle of his back from the impact of the werewolf attacking him. Minor injuries in the grand scheme of things, but it instantly takes Cas back to the fight from a few hours ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was supposed to have only been one werewolf, instead there were five. He’d been fighting two werewolves by himself in the open clearing, near the treeline, one already dead, and Dean had led the other two away, into the sparse forest a few hundred feet away. He’d just finished running the last one through the heart when he’d heard Dean yell. The terror that filled him at that moment was unlike anything he’d felt before. He’d almost lost Dean before, many times, and in some cases he had. But things were supposed to be different now, after they beat God. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It can’t end like this, not after everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Cas had thought, as he rushed towards Dean’s voice and the rustling in the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first glance, Cas had thought he <em>was</em> dead -- blood splattered on his chest and side, a werewolf on the ground next to him, blade sticking out through its chest. And then he saw the quick rise and fall of Dean’s chest and relief flooded his senses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas doesn’t remember much after that, working on autopilot, helping Dean back to the car and stitching up his wound, making sure that he was, in fact, going to be okay and would recover from this. Then they drove until Cas couldn’t stand seeing Dean’s blood stained on his hands and needed to pull over at a gas station to rinse them clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas? You okay?” Dean asks, voice soft and worried, bringing Cas back from the flashbacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Cas asks, dazed, coming back to the present and looking over at Dean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Dean’s hands squeezes his shoulder, comforting, and it grounds him. “I was telling you that the bandage looks good and you didn’t answer. You spaced out there for a second. What’s going on?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas contemplates saying he’s fine, but that never bodes well for him or Dean. In this new stint of humanity he’s taken it upon himself to be honest with his emotions, and honest with Dean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking... about earlier.” Cas drops his eyes to Dean’s wound and begins sealing the bandage, gently pressing the tape onto Dean’s skin. He’s found that focusing on something while talking about things that make him vulnerable eases the process, allows him to say what he needs without holding back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about earlier?” Dean prods. There’s an openness to his tone that breaks something inside the tightness of Cas’ chest, and everything comes pouring out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was terrified,” Cas admits, voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you lying there hurt, I thought you were dead. And I couldn’t think, I had to make it right, I had to fix it, but I couldn’t because I don’t have the ability to heal you anymore. I thought I'd lost you and I --"<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice cuts off, a sob choking his throat, and his fingers pause, trembling against Dean’s ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dean says, soothing, and his hands are suddenly on Cas’ face, cupping his cheeks, palms warm against Cas’ skin. He’s turned so they’re facing each other and he’s so close Cas can see the smattering of freckles across the arch of his nose. “I’m here.” He rubs circles onto Cas’ jaw with his thumb. “Do you feel that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas nods, tears pricking at his eyes and he darts his eyes over Dean’s face, he feels frantic and overwhelmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean kisses him, soft and chaste, a gentle caress of their lips, while thunder rolls in the background. It feels like the punctuation of a long-winded sentence, something he’d been waiting for, for years, never knowing he’d actually get. Dean’s lips are soft, as he knew they would be, and he’s gentle, caresses Cas’ cheek while they kiss like he’s still something holy. And for a moment, Cas thinks they might be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulls back right as lightning flashes, illuminating his blush-stained cheeks and wide eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that okay? I --” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas doesn’t let Dean finish, leaning back in to kiss him as his answer. He reaches up, takes Dean’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together, and keeps kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They trade kisses in the glow of the neon sign outside, hands wandering reverently over skin. Cas drags his hands down Dean’s chest, traces shapes over his skin, and rolls a thumb over his nipple to get Dean to groan into Cas’ mouth. Dean yields to him, relaxing under Cas’ hands, and they move together, exploring each other’s mouths for the first time. Dean kisses how he loves, with transparent devotion, making Cas tremble under his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pull apart, both desperate for air, Dean nuzzles against the side of Cas’ cheek, lips brushing soft kisses over his skin. “So uh, I might be in love with you,” Dean whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas feels a smile work its way onto his face, bright enough it could light up the room. “I’d hoped you were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean laughs, joyous, and it sounds like a hundred bells ringing. Outside, a storm rages, but inside this room, this safe space there’s peace. Dean bumps their noses together and when Cas opens his eyes, he sees a soft curved smile on Dean’s lips he’s never witnessed before. Just for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas takes one of Dean’s hands in his, interlocks their fingers, and scoots back on the bed, pulling Dean with him. They lie down across from each other, chest to chest, their legs tangling under the thick, chartreuse comforter. Cas’ hand rests on Dean’s cheek, thumb gliding over his bottom lip. At his touch, Dean opens to him, sucks the tip of Cas’ thumb into his mouth, eyes going dark with lust. Cas kisses down his jaw, pauses on the notch where his neck and jaw meet, and feels Dean’s pulse quicken under his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want... more,” Dean whispers, sliding a hand up into Cas’ hair and tugging gently on the longer part at the top. “But I can’t, not with my stitches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay, I’ve dreamed of kissing you for years,” Cas answers, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from Dean’s jaw back to his lips. “And I am more than content with this until you’re able to do more. I’ve decided I want to memorize every detail of your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” Dean groans, and dives back in, kissing him like Cas is the very air he breathes and without him he’ll die. Cas melts in Dean’s embrace, and kisses back just as eager, licking his mouth open, making good on his promise. Euphoria hits him, intoxicating in a way he’s only felt once in his lengthy life -- pulling Dean from hell and raising him from the dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s always Dean,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mind supplies him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You were meant for each other.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thunder splits the air outside, and lightning crackles, flashing bright and illuminating their joined lips and intertwined bodies. For a moment nothing else exists outside of this shuddering motel room in northern Tennessee but him and Dean.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pit Stop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the revelations from the night before, Dean and Cas head north towards Maine for some quality time together. Along the way, they stop in a small town in the middle of Pennsylvania for the night, exploring each other and their burgeoning relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This section became too long, so there will now be three chapters instead of two! Also, read-through but unedited because we die like gods here. Enjoy! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the morning, they head out early just after sunrise. All traces of the previous night's storm have vanished, dark clouds replaced by fluffy pink ones looking like cotton-candy in the glow of the sunrise. There’s a diner a few doors down from the motel, <em> Frank’s, </em>offering a special on chicken fried steak for $9.99 and the heartiest pancakes this side of the Mississippi. Dean is skeptical on that front and Cas has nothing to judge it against, but orders some anyway along with eggs sunny-side up. </p><p>
  <span>Today, despite the earliness of the hour and Dean’s usual penchant for being grumpy until he’s had at least two cups of caffeine in him, he’s chipper, smiling at Cas over the rim of his mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Cas asks. Under the table, he bumps his foot against Dean’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy,” Dean answers, maintaining eye contact, a soft smile playing on his lips. He hooks his foot around Cas’ ankle underneath the table and smirks when Cas pins his foot between his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I can see that,” Cas says, feeling a blush heat up his cheeks. “I mean, how’s your wound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean takes a measured sip of coffee and shrugs. “It’s fine, better than yesterday. I think I’ll live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you just might,” Cas says, all-faux seriousness and gets Dean to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria, their waitress -- a middle-aged woman with a salt and pepper ponytail, and tired brown eyes -- brings their food minutes later. The pancakes are hearty, as thick as a romance novel paperback, and drizzled with enough syrup there’s a small lake left once the cakes are gone. Dean steals bites off of Cas’ plate, chewing thoughtfully before stating, “I’ve had better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas doesn’t doubt that he has. He likes them anyway, they’re sweet and make him feel all warm inside once he’s done eating. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dean had said. Cas makes him happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas finds after he’s done eating, he can’t quite seem to wipe the smile off of his lips. It’s there, permanently now. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So,” Dean starts, twenty minutes later in the parking lot, Baby rumbling underneath them as he taps his fingers to the beat of Whole Lotta Love, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I was thinking, we deserve a vacation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do?” Cas asks, turning his gaze away from the nearby highway to look at Dean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes meet and Dean’s are twinkling, he’s excited in a way he gets right after a pretty girl gives him her number or he eats his favorite cherry pie from that 50’s diner in Abilene. “We saved the world last month from God and I think we should celebrate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Cas says, totally on board, but hesitant. “What were you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A road trip,” Dean says immediately, smacking his hands on the steering wheel and grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A road trip,” Cas repeats. “Aren’t you tired of driving?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean guffaws and looks over at Cas like he lost his mind. “I</span>
  <em>
    <span> love </span>
  </em>
  <span>driving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sighs, heavy, and then replies. “Yes, I’m aware, I meant shouldn’t we head home? You’re injured still and we need some medical supplies from the Bunker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean handwaves away his worry. “We can pick some stuff up at Walgreens or something. You patched me up real nice, I’ll be as good as new in no time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, and reaches over to take Cas’ hand in his. He rests their joined hands atop Cas’ thigh and squeezes tight. It’s a moment before he responds, eyes trained on his own lap, contemplating his words. Cas waits, watching and squeezes his hand back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” Dean says with a little shrug. His neck is turning pink and Cas has the sudden urge to kiss him. ”I want a little more time with you all to myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas watches Dean as he waits for Cas to say something -- how the blush on his cheeks and neck brightens and he fidgets in the seat, nervous as if this admittance will take away everything that happened the night before. To put him out of his misery, Cas leans over and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I think I can manage spending a few more days alone with you,” Cas teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulls back to look at Dean, Dean’s lips are twitching up into a smile and if Cas isn’t mistaken there’s a dampness to his eyes that wasn’t there before. It makes his heartache to see him so open, so vulnerable in such a long time, if not for the first time in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s briefly taken back to near eight months ago, back in Purgatory, when Dean poured his heart out to him through prayer. Back then, Cas didn’t believe they could have this, so much was still uncertain about their futures with The Empty waiting in the shadows to take him and God still a threat. But they’re here, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Cas fully intends to spend the rest of his life loving Dean how he deserves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, where should we go?” Dean asks. He clears his throat and glances over at Cas with a quirked eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are there any states you haven’t been to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, Dad took us to all fifty by the time I was seventeen, you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean adjusts his grip in Cas’ hand and starts rubbing his thumb in circles over Cas’ skin. It takes Cas a moment to respond to Dean’s question, he’s so distracted by how good it feels to just hold Dean’s hand that he forgets what they were talking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have fond memories of Maine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maine huh? It has been a while,” Dean says wistfully. He waggles his eyebrows at Cas and says, “We’re gonna fuck in a lighthouse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we are?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, if we’re on vacation we might as well go all out,” Dean states, lips tilted up into a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desire blooms in Cas chest as his mind starts to spin, all the thoughts of the various ways he could fuck Dean filling his head. He gazes over Dean’s face, watches Dean watch him back, and wishes he could still time-travel. He’d transport them there right now if he could. Cas reaches up and cups Dean’s cheek with his palm, kissing him instead. Dean makes a quiet, pleading noise in his throat and kisses back, nice and slow, clinging to Cas’ sleeve with trembling fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas pulls back when things start to get too heated, much to his own dismay, they are in public after all. “I can’t wait,” he answers, bumping his nose against Dean’s cheek, then sits back in the seat, enjoying the view of Dean’s kiss-swollen lips and flushed face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we need anything before we leave?” Cas asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a gas station down the street, we should stop there before we leave. I should call Sam and let him know we won’t be home for a bit. Doubt he’ll notice much since Eileen’s there, but he does worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get gas, you call Sam. Do you want anything else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas watches the gears turn in Dean’s head before his eyes light up and he replies, all dreamy, “Moon pies, Cas. Coffee and moon pies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean revs the engine and heads across the street to the gas station. He tosses Cas a fifty and digs out his phone, humming under his breath as he types in Sam’s number. Cas gives him one last lingering glance before stepping out of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the convenience store, Cas grabs coffee for himself and Dean, a few packs of Moon Pies, and a big bag of kettle chips in case they get hungry before they stop for the night. He’ll have to keep an eye on Dean, who has a tendency to push himself driving until it’s too much. They’re on vacation and Dean is still injured, they can make this trek up the coast take as long as they need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes for the Impala’s tank to fill and Cas remains outside the car while Dean talks to Sam. He knows Dean wouldn’t mind, but gives him the privacy regardless. This relationship between them is so new, it will take some getting used to and the gravity of all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours may be something Dean wants to drop on Sam without Cas overhearing. He peers through the window as nonchalantly as he can manage, peeking in every thirty seconds or so, intently watching the minute changes in Dean’s facial expressions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pump hose jumps, followed by a loud click indicating that the tank is full. Cas gathers up the items he left atop the roof and climbs back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s off the phone now, an easy smile on his lips that only widens when he sees Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas tosses a pack of Moon Pies into Dean’s lap. “How did it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but Sam’s a jerk,” Dean says. He picks up the pack of Moon Pies with a grin and rips open the packaging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about damn time you got your heads out of your asses.” Dean sighs and throws up his hands, the Moon Pie package falling into his lap. “He knew this whole time. I can’t believe him.” He shakes his head and picks up a Moon Pie, biting into it and lets out a very satisfied groan while he crunches away. He hands the other in the package to Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Cas starts. “We’ve been very oblivious.” He sniffs at the Moon Pie and takes a tiny bite. It smells chocolatey and tastes like what you’d expect a s'more to if you dipped it in hot chocolate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess so. Anyway, he’s gonna send us some more money just in case one of the cards stops working. Told us to have fun and be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re never going to hear the end of this are we?” Cas states. Inside his pocket his phone vibrates, he’s almost certain it’s a text from Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas steals a glance over at Dean, finds Dean looking back at him with a soft smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “You ready to head out?” Dean asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean twists the key and Baby rumbles to life beneath them. Her engine putters for a few seconds, then Dean steps on the gas, revving her up. Gravel flies as he peels out of the parking lot and heads toward the highway. AC/DC appears to be the music choice this morning. Hell’s Bells drifts out of the speakers as Dean merges onto the freeway, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas takes a moment to check his phone and finds that Sam did text him. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I’m happy for you two. Take care of him and be safe. Let me know when you get to Maine.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles a little to himself and taps out a quick reply to Sam before pocketing his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, the road seems to stretch on forever. In the slanted light of morning, dew still clinging to every surface, the pavement shimmers. Few cars are on the road at this hour, mostly large semis which Dean passes easily, as they head north. Once they’re settled on the highway, cruising at an even seventy, Dean reaches over and slides his hand into Cas’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks over and finds Dean singing along to AC/DC, bopping his head to the beat, the only noticeable change in his demeanor is the slight blush on his cheeks. He squeezes Dean’s hand back, and Dean briefly looks over, singing paused. A smile appears on Dean’s lips, wide and radiant like the sunlight surrounding them, then he winks at Cas and looks back towards the road, starting to sing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the moments like these Cas chose to fall for. Throughout his long life, Cas had felt like he was waiting for something or someone, an emptiness inside him that no manner of grace or power could fill, yet he was never quite sure what it was he needed. In 2008, when he’d raised Dean from hell, Cas had known then he was changed forever -- in ways he wouldn’t understand until many years later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be loved back, by Dean who loves with his entire soul, is a gift that Cas intends to cherish for the rest of his life. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>As golden hour settles on the horizon, Dean pulls off the highway; heading towards a cluster of flickering neon on the outskirts of a small town in Pennsylvania. Cas doesn’t note the name, the sign flashing by quicker than his eyes can catch it. They’ve been on the road for over eight hours now, and Cas is surprised Dean lasted this long. Next to him, Cas hears Dean’s stomach audibly grumble. It’s been a few hours since their snack stash disappeared and breakfast is a distant memory at this point. Reaching over, Cas covers the hand Dean has resting on the gear shift with his own and squeezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner?” Cas asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks over with tired, drooping eyes, but they light up at Cas’ words, and a tiny smile twitches on his lips. “Mmmm burgers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas leans across the seat and kisses Dean’s cheek. When he leans back there’s a blush blossoming over Dean’s cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. “You know me too well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rex’s Diner is nothing special, another run-down restaurant situated in small-town America. Grease stained wooden tables, ketchup and mustard paired together placed neatly near the window. Dean sits across from Cas at the sunflower-yellow, ripped vinyl booth, sipping on a coke, straw caught between his teeth. When he catches Cas’ gaze, he grins around the straw, flicking at it with his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Cas asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hungry and tired,” Dean states, then pauses momentarily, straw clicking against his teeth. “But good. How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks at Dean under the fluorescent glow of the lights. Despite his visible exhaustion, he’s still as gorgeous as ever and just looking at him a warmth blooms in Cas’ chest. “I’m good,” Cas answers, eying Dean. “Very good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat between them snaps as Dean’s eyes meet his own, and Cas feels his pulse flutter at his neck. Taking a sip of his drink, Cas smiles to himself, his mind filled with all of the possibilities between them now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dean asks, arching an eyebrow and hooking an ankle around Cas’ underneath the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress comes seconds later, dropping off their burgers, so Cas waits until she’s back behind the counter and tapping away at the register before he replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you,” Cas says, fixing Dean with a stare he hopes gets his point across. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slow smile spreads over Dean’s lips. “Yeah, what about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s so much I’ve longed to have with you, for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pauses, mid-bite of his burger and leans forward. “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas glances around. There are a few other patrons, and the Beatles are quietly playing from out of the jukebox near the register. He could share, tease Dean with all the things he’s yearned for, but he doesn’t want listeners. It’s just for them. “Not here, at the motel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a look that borders feral, Dean gives Cas a once over, and the heat of it rushes through him like a burst of grace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess we better eat then,” Dean says, voice noticeably huskier. Underneath the table, Dean’s foot slides up the back of Cas’ calf and back down. For a moment, Cas is tempted to forget about the burger and his incessantly growling stomach and get Dean back to the motel. Dean, however, pointedly takes a big bite of his burger, chewing obnoxiously, and Cas can’t help rolling his eyes at him. So, this is how it’s going to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Once inside the motel, hidden away from the rest of the world and the sudden downpour pinging against the windows, Dean gets his hands and mouth on Cas. Backing him up against the nearest wall, hands fumbling with Cas’ damp jacket, and shoving it up and off his shoulders. They kiss with messy desperation, anxious to just feel each other. Cas’ hands shake as he undoes the buttons of Dean’s jacket. Kissing Dean is exhilarating, Cas has discovered, a form of intoxication he’d happily set aside an entire day to indulge in. Especially like this, chest to chest, shirts discarded, and wandering hands taking the time to explore each other in ways Cas only dreamed about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” Dean groans into his mouth. Cas pulls back out of the next kiss, smirking as Dean chases him, eager for more. He moves his hand up and drags his thumb over the plump edge of Dean’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. A rush of arousal goes through him as Dean sucks the tip of Cas’ thumb into his mouth swirling his tongue around it. For a moment, Cas can’t focus on anything but the heat and softness of Dean’s mouth. Dean’s eyes track over his face while he sucks, maintaining eye contact, pupils dilating until the green is nearly drowned out with black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me show you,” Cas answers, his voice sounding wrecked from just Dean’s kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags his thumb out of Dean’s mouth, and grips his shoulder instead, gently pushing down. Dean immediately drops to his knees, hands sliding down Cas’ chest as he does. Before Cas can instruct him further, Dean breaks eye contact and leans in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’ head thumps against the wall behind him, eyes fluttering shut as the heat of Dean’s mouth envelops the head of his cock through his pants. “Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words only encourage Dean, who scoots closer and drags his mouth up and down, licking and sucking at the head and length of Cas’ cock like he’s greedy for it. Cas opens his eyes and watches. Dean’s eyes are shut, eyelashes resting on his cheek, face a picture of complete bliss. He’s focused on teasing Cas with his mouth, quiet pleased noises coming from the back of his throat while he licks a slow line up the length of Cas’ cock. And he gets off on it too, if the hardened curve of his cock through his jeans is any indication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love this,” Dean pants, pulling back to look up at him, palms massaging up and down Cas’ thighs. “Did you jerk off thinking about me sucking you off, just like this?” Dean asks, sliding a palm, rubbings his fingers over the damp spot on Cas’ pants right above his slit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All coherent thought has vanished from Cas’ mind, but somehow he manages to croak out, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. Can I?” Dean asks, more like begs, eyes pleading up at Cas while he licks his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all of an answer Dean needs. His hands move quickly, undoing Cas’ belt with expert efficiency. He sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls Cas’ cock out of his boxers, flushed red and leaking at the tip. Cas watches as Dean darts his eyes to Cas’, then licks his lips once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God,” Dean groans. He wraps his palm around the base of Cas’ cock, and strokes up and down, fingertips velvety soft. “You’re gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas blushes at the praise.“Dean,” he says, quiet and reverent, reaching out and tangling his fingers into Dean’s hair tugging him closer, eager to get Dean’s mouth on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tease that he is, Dean goes slow at first, leaning in and gliding the head of Cas’ cock over his bottom lip, tonguing at the slit. A sigh punches from Cas’ throat at the softness of Dean’s lips on him, which quickly intensifies as Dean opens his mouth wider and takes Cas’ cock deep into his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas groans a litany of Dean's name, tugging him imperceptibly closer by his hair, desperate for more. Dean moves his hands to Cas’ thighs, gripping them while he bobs his head, hollowing his mouth and twirling his tongue up and down Cas’ cock, creating the perfect suction. Cas watches him, completely entranced. He paints the prettiest picture like this, lips spread wide making the perfect o around Cas’ cock, as Cas thrusts slowly inside the heat of his mouth. It’s better than he’d imagined and already Cas feels his orgasm building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have time to warm Dean but for a sharp tug on his hair before Cas comes into Dean’s mouth. Releasing his grip, Dean leans back, holding the base of Cas’ cock, letting Cas come right on his lips. Dean looks up at him, holds eye contact and drags his tongue over his bottom lip, licking it clean. Then, he smirks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” Cas grips Dean’s shoulder and hauls him to his feet. His other hand reaches for Dean’s waist once he’s on his feet, to steady him, as Cas kisses him, licking the taste of his own come out of Dean’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helplessly, Dean whines against Cas’ lips, sliding his hands up into Cas’ hair, and grinding against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need?” Cas asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything,” Dean groans, kissing Cas’ jaw. “Just touch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an easy enough request, one Cas is happy to comply with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slips his hand down to Dean’s belt, letting Dean kiss him while he gets his hand into Dean’s jeans and wraps his fist around his cock. Dean whines into his mouth, drops his mouth to Cas’ neck, and sucks a mark beneath his ear, while Cas gives his cock a few easy strokes. Dean’s cock is thicker than Cas’, flushed a deep pink and bubbling pre-cum at the tip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucking his hips into Cas’ hand, desperate for more friction, Dean pants against his neck. “Cas, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas turns his head and kisses Dean’s cheek, chaste in comparison to everything else and says, “I’ll take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides his other hand further around Dean’s waist, pulling them as close together as he can. Gliding his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, he gathers the pre-cum and uses it to slick his palm, easing the next few strokes. It won’t take long, Dean’s already falling apart against him. He alternates his strokes, slowing sometimes and then quickening, even dipping his hand lower to roll the heel of his palm against Dean’s balls. Each stroke draws different noises from Dean’s throat, makes him cling to Cas’ shoulder, or suck on his neck. Dean is intoxicating to listen to. Cas fully intends to spend an evening, when they get a chance, mercilessly teasing Dean and exploring what other sounds he can pull from Dean with his hands and mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sobs into Cas’ neck as he comes, wrapped up in Cas’ arms, as Cas strokes him through it until his whole body trembles. He swipes his thumb once more over the head, and Dean jerks against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” he whines, in protest, burying his face in the crook of Cas’ shoulder. He clings to Cas’ arms, mouthing at his skin, panting as he slowly comes back to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks gorgeous, body still shaking with the aftershocks off his orgasm, beads of sweat dripping down the long line of his neck. Cas can’t help but duck down, tongue licking the dip in Dean’s collarbone, up his neck, and leaving a chaste kiss on his jaw, then his cheek. Dean whimpers, nuzzling against Cas’ neck, clearly overstimulated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Cas asks, after a moment, once Dean’s breathing has slowed, and his grip has gone lax on Cas’ arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel sleepy and a little loopy but,” Dean pauses, kissing Cas’ neck. “I loved that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Cas agrees. “I can’t wait to do so many more things with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean moves his head up to look into Cas’ eyes, and then kisses him, short and sweet in agreement. He looks down at the sticky mess between their chests and groans. “Ugh, we should clean up. Then, I’m dragging you into bed with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Cas asks, arching an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Mhmm. Secret is, I actually really like cuddling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’ lips twitch in amusement. “It’s not a secret, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -- wait, what?” Dean sputters, squinting at Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas kisses him in reply, bumping his forehead with Dean’s. “Come, let’s clean up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, they crawl into bed clothes fully discarded. Dean faces towards the door goosebumps rising on his skin in the chill, but Cas slips in behind him, arm snaking around his waist, and pulling Dean towards him until Dean’s back is flush against Cas’ chest. Cas snuggles in against Dean’s back, burying his nose at the nape of Dean’s neck. One hand rests low on Dean’s waist, right over his stomach, the other Cas’ slides up until it’s resting right over his heartbeat, so he can feel the even thump beneath his fingertips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?” Cas asks. It’s still new to them, and despite the events of earlier there’s a nervousness in his chest that bubbles up at the intimacy of having Dean in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect, Cas.” Dean’s hand covers Cas’ where it rests on his stomach and squeezes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t talk more, both tuckered out from their long day. It takes Cas awhile to fall asleep, his mind too preoccupied with the emotion settling tight in his chest over the fact that he gets this with Dean, this soft side of him, to hold him and love him how he’d fantasized about. Dean drifts off quickly, snoring quietly, heart beating steadily against Cas’ palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, green neon from the motel sign flickers through the slats in the blinds creating kaleidoscopes over Dean’s cheek, his neck, making shapes over his body. Cas leaves butterfly soft kisses over the light on Dean’s skin, careful not to wake him. He does stir, minutely, curling up more so into Cas’ arms. In the low light, Cas smiles to himself and pulls Dean closer against him, tangling his legs with Dean’s. Leaving one last kiss on the back of Dean’s neck, Cas settles into the mattress, thankful that they’re both here and alive and finally able to speak aloud what they’ve always been to each other. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/anastiels">twitter</a>!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always I can be found on <a href="https://twitter.com/anastiels">twitter</a> &lt;3.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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